Chapter 3

The top floor of that hospital was reserved for the Rivers family alone.

When the elevator doors opened, two nurses were already standing there with a wheelchair.

I didn't sit. The nurses hesitated and glanced at the bodyguards.

"Ms. Rhine," one of them said, "the doctor thinks you're too agitated. He wants to run some tests."

I smiled without warmth. "Tests or imprisonment?"

From the far end of the hallway, I could hear Charles talking on the phone.

"Keep the board in check for now," he said. "Get Vivian off the trending searches. I'll deal with Sophia."

I pushed past the nurses and started walking.

The bodyguards stepped into my path.

While we were still at a standoff, Vivian appeared with an elderly doctor at her side.

"Ms. Rhine," she said, "you're in your first trimester. The last thing you need is this kind of agitation."

I glanced at the name on the doctor's ID badge.

He was Vincent Quinn, obstetrician to the Rivers family, and the director of a medical foundation funded by the Wynn family.

He looked at me with cold, clinical detachment. "Ms. Rhine, I'll need to draw some blood."

I took a step back. "No."

Vivian let out a quiet sigh. "Charles is only trying to take care of you. If your own health fails, the baby will suffer for it too."

Charles hung up and came over to me.

He draped his coat over my shoulders. "Sophia, just let them run the tests. After that, I'll take you to the villa."

I met his eyes. "Tell her to leave, and I'll do it."

Vivian's smile tightened for just a fraction of a second.

Charles was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Vivian, wait downstairs."

Her voice came out smooth and sweet. "All right."

But as she turned to go, she threw a glance at Vincent, a signal meant for his eyes only.

In the blood draw room, the nurse's hand was steady as she slipped the needle into my vein.

I watched the blood fill the tube.

It was the blood of the House of Rhine.

If the royal database were still running, a single test would be enough to trigger a family tracing alert.

So I tipped over the tray on purpose.

Tubes shattered and scattered across the floor.

The nurse gasped.

With a careful push of my foot, I slid one of the broken tubes toward the crack beneath the door.

A cleaner happened to be passing by. She bent down and picked it up.

Our eyes met. On her sleeve, barely peeking out from the cuff, was a small silver rose pin.

She was the Royal Guard.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

She tucked the tube into her cleaning cart and walked off without a backward glance.

Vincent rushed in. "What happened?"

I held my arm. "I got dizzy."

Charles was at my side immediately. "Stop the blood work for now."

Vincent looked at the broken glass on the floor, his expression sour. "Mr. Rivers, we need those prenatal results as soon as possible."

"We'll do it tomorrow." Charles carried me back to the hospital room.

The room was luxurious enough, but the window would only open a crack.

Two bodyguards stood at the door. Cameras lined the hallway. And my phone had no signal.

He sat on the edge of the bed and put a bandage on my arm, his touch as gentle as it used to be.

I looked at him. "Charles," I asked, "was there ever a moment when you thought about keeping this child?"

His hand stopped. "Of course I did."

"Then why did you bring me here?"

He dropped his gaze. "I need a risk assessment before the engagement. If the Rivers family heir has a child out of wedlock, the stock price will drop, and the Wynn family will pull their funding."

I pulled my hand away. "So my baby is a risk."

Charles' throat moved as he swallowed.

"I'll protect him," he said.

Suddenly, Vivian's voice came from outside the door, thick with tears. "Charles, your father just collapsed!"

Charles stood up at once.

Vivian pushed the door open, her eyes swollen and red. "The doctor said Mr. Rivers can't handle any more stress. The board is already here. They need you to sign the engagement confirmation tonight."

Charles turned to me. "I'll be back later."

I gave him a small, cold smile. "You'd be better off not coming back at all."

After he left, Vincent walked in carrying a cup. "Ms. Rhine," he said, "your prenatal tonic."

I caught a faint scent. It was bitter, like almonds, barely there beneath the surface of the medicine.

I took the cup from him and let it slip through my fingers.

The liquid spilled across the sheets, and the white fabric began to yellow before my eyes.

Vincent's face went pale.

I looked him straight in the eye. "Does prenatal tonic usually eat through cotton?"

He stepped back and pushed the door shut. "Ms. Rhine," he said in a low voice, "in a family like this, a child shouldn't have come so soon."

From outside, the roar of a helicopter suddenly filled the air.

Vincent heard it too, and his face changed.

The next moment, an alarm blared through the corridor.

Someone shouted in Rhinean, "We've found Her Highness' blood sample!"